


Economy of Emotions

by kho



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt, Episode Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 00:51:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15473856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kho/pseuds/kho
Summary: Clammy coldness makes Danny’s arm hair stand up because Steve, of all people, after this long, is standing on Danny’s doorstep.   It’s been months -- months, Danny knows exactly how many days --  since either of them barged into each other’s spaces uninvited.  Unannounced visits from Steve used happen often, every day, enough to make Danny both dread it and anticipate it every time he cracked open a beer.  So it shouldn’t be such a shock to him to have Steve on his stoop, but it is because it’s been eighty-two days.  Which explains the rasp in Danny’s voice when he chokes out his name.





	Economy of Emotions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Markinmi1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Markinmi1/gifts).



> Co-written with my lovely @accol, the salt to my tomatoes!  
> This fic was written for [Fandom Cares](http://fandomcares.tumblr.com/), a support blog run by dedicated members of the Teen Wolf and Sterek community. Being that I'm more known as a writer in other fandoms I offered up choices to write for H5O as well as Teen Wolf and Suits. 
> 
> My winning bidder was the immensely patient and lovely MARK, who asked for "I wonder if you’ll indulge me in breaking our guys up before getting them back together some how." I had initially thought I would be writing a longer fic that I'd actually had the idea for a while back for him as it covered exactly this and when I told him the idea he loved it too. Unfortunately my muses were NOT cooperating, no matter how many times I caffeinated them and storyboarded them and made timelines. So instead, I told him that what I'd do is write the original agreed upon "Up to 5,000 words" fic he'd bid on to begin with. That way he gets what he signed on for even if I never am able to fully dig in to this full thing.
> 
> I enlisted @accol to beta and cheerlead me and instead she not only held my hand but took a mediocre fic that I was not feeling so good about and made it sing! So I said I gave her tomatoes-- fine on their own, satisfactory, nice even, but not super tasty-- and she added all this salt and other kinds of seasoning and made me a meal out of it! 
> 
> And so...
> 
> Backstory: This is set in the beginning of season 7, after the plane crash, after the liver, during the time when Steve was feeling all out of sorts and somewhat angry and bitter and uncertain and Danny was feeling unappreciated and worried for Steve's lack of safety concern and etc. The circumstances in this canon divergent type au are that after Danny went undercover in Econ for UH, the students loved him so much and responded so well to him and rated him so highly that the school actually offered him a position. He said no until he didn't. Steve did not react well.
> 
> It's been just under three months since Danny left Five O.

His doorbell startles him out of grumbling at this idiotic author’s piece of junk book.  Just because a person has a Ph.D. after his name doesn’t mean he knows what the hell direction is up in microeconomics.  Danny takes his glasses off, and one bow ends up in his mouth when he reaches for the doorknob.

“Steve.”

Clammy coldness makes Danny’s arm hair stand up because Steve, of all people, after _this long_ , is standing on Danny’s doorstep.   It’s been months -- _months_ , Danny knows exactly how many days --  since either of them barged into each other’s spaces uninvited.  Unannounced visits from Steve used happen often, every day, enough to make Danny both dread it and anticipate it every time he cracked open a beer.  So it shouldn’t be such a shock to him to have Steve on his stoop, but it _is_ because it’s been eighty-two days.  Which explains the rasp in Danny’s voice when he chokes out his name.

“Steven.  Did someone die?.”

“No, no one died.”  But Steve avoids Danny’s eyes.  He looks past Danny into the living room and shifts his weight from one foot to the other.  “Can I-- You got the kids tonight?” Steve’s eyes land on the beer on Danny’s coffee table.  Pointing, he arches an eyebrow. “You got a beer for me?”

Danny carefully folds his glasses and tucks them into the breast pocket of his shirt.  He doesn’t answer Steve’s question. He wouldn’t even know how to. He’s been struck dumb by this idiot.  He’s word-free in his surprise and, frankly, in his annoyance that Steve showed up here. Eighty-two days worth of annoyance to be exact.

And then he has the nerve to ask to drink Danny’s beer?  Are you fucking kidding?

Danny just leaves the door open, turns around, and walks into the kitchen.  He buries his head in the fridge so he doesn't have to look at Steve just yet.  Behind him, the door closes and Steve’s boot-covered feet fall heavily on the floor as he follows Danny into the kitchen.  Danny takes a deep breath and pulls out two beers, opening one and handing it to Steve. He keeps the other for himself, because the one in the den is only half drunk but if he’s going to have this talk he’s damn well going to need a cold, brand new, _full_ one.

“Sit,” Danny says, pointing to the kitchen table.  He is using the voice he uses when Grace needs a talking to.  

This is another thing he and Steve never did before.  Sitting outside on the patio, yes. Sitting on the couch in front of the TV, yes.  Those were places they gravitated to. Those places felt natural -- or they used to.  This, however. This. Sitting at the kitchen table with open beers is a foreign concept to the dynamic of Steve and Danny.  

And _that_ revelation is exactly what Danny needed to remind himself that Steve can’t just come here out of the blue and delete all the hurt he’s let fester in the last three months. So Danny sits.  He can wait. He’s waited this long already, so he can sure as hell wait for Steve to do the talking for once.

However, Steve, the bastard, waits so long to speak that Danny starts counting the scratches in the table between them so he doesn’t yank his own hair out.  When Steve finally does speak, Danny’s up to thirteen and trying to decide if he needs to make a trip to Ikea to get a new table or Home Depot to fix this one.

“You weren’t supposed to stay,” Steve finally says.

Danny finishes his swallow before looking at Steve.  He’s looking right back at Danny.

“Stay,” Danny says flatly, wanting Steve to say exactly what he means, because he sure as hell hasn’t said enough yet.

“You weren’t supposed to dig your heels in and stay at this new job.  You weren’t supposed to stay away from…. From us, from Five-O, from--”

“Oh, is _that_ what I was doing?”

Steve nods, looking away.  He picks at the label on his bottle.  “Yeah. You were supposed to come back.”

“To the job.”

“To _me_ ,” Steve spits out, angry and raw.  He pushes away from the table hard enough that it squeaks across the floor an inch as he stands.  It’s the first emotion Danny’s seen from him and it’s a doozy. “You weren’t supposed to actually be gone!  You were supposed to come back!”

Danny settles back into his seat, watching Steve pace and battling himself on whether he feels annoyed, betrayed, or relieved.  At least Steve isn’t just here to drink Danny’s beer and pretend that everything is normal. So maybe that means relieved. He sure is hell not going to let himself get too hopeful here.

“Tell me this:  Since when have you ever known me to _not_ dig my heels in, Steven?”

Steve laughs slightly at that and something settles in Danny’s chest.  He’s still uneasy and feeling more on edge than he ever thought he would around Steve, but something settles just enough for him to breathe easier.

“Guess I shoulda known better,” Steve says.  He stops his pacing and grips (and ungrips and grips and ungrips) the back of the chair he’d been sitting in.    

“So why did you cut me off then?” Danny ventures after a moment of silence, looking down into his half full bottle of beer.  He hadn’t really meant to ask that. He’d meant to see where Steve went with this conversation, let Steve lead the way since Steve had been the one to keep up this wall of impenetrable animosity for the past forever.  “Why would you think I’d ever come back if you cut me out?”

“Because you left me,” Steve says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.  Like Danny’s obtuse for even having to ask. “You left me, just like everybody else.  My Dad. My Mom. Cath. You just left me.”

“No,” Danny says slowly, sitting forward and jabbing a finger into the table.  “I did not _just leave_ you.  You _made_ it that.”

Steve rolls his eyes.  “What are you--”

“I left the job,” Danny says stiffly, sitting back again, getting some distance.  “You’re the one who made that the same as leaving you.”

“It is the same,” Steve says, looking down at the floor.  “You left me all by myself.”

“How?” Danny asks sharply, rocking forward again and counting people off on his fingers.  “You’ve got Lou. You’ve got Chin and Kono. You’ve got your pick of whoever the hell you want from HPD, you don’t need me.”

  
“Yeah, well, they’re not you,” Steve bites out angrily, looking back up at him.  “What are you not getting here? How do you not get how important you are to me?”

“I do get it, Steven,” Danny says, softening his tone.  “I get it because you’re important to me too. And if I’d stayed…”  Danny takes a deep breath and reaches up to scrub at his eyes, frustrated at not knowing how to say all the things he’s been wanting to say.  “Look, I got a kid. Two of ‘em. And I’ve got a target painted on my chest here, and I get shot at every day, and I got a partner that’s a crazy wild man that throws himself in front of bullets every damn day--”

“I don’t have a death wish, Danny, for the millionth time--”

“You do, to an extent, but ok, let’s say you don’t,” Danny says, holding up placating hands, that ‘talk the crazy man down from the ledge tone’ seeping into his voice.  It’s amazing to Danny just how damn often that tone comes in when it has to do with speaking to Steve. Or, actually, it’s not. It just _should_ be.  “Let’s pretend that’s not what this is.  What we have instead is you putting your all out there to get shot to bits, again, might I add, with my liver already inside of you.  So it ain’t like you don’t know how vulnerable your life is, it’s not like it’s news to you that you could die. So we’ve got you jumping in front of bullets and me at your back, Steven.  Me. At your back. Always. Cuz I always got your back.”

“Not anymore.”

Danny lets out an annoyed huff even as the guilt starts to rise up in him.  No matter how many times he’s told himself he’s in the right here, the guilt still comes.  

“No.  No, not anymore,” he said quietly.  “I finally decided enough was enough.  I finally pulled my head out of my ass and decided if he’s not gonna worry about his own life he’s for damn sure not gonna worry about mine so I’m gonna take myself out of the equation.”

“Fuck you.”  

Steve slams his bottle onto the countertop, splashing beer all over the tile.  His words are barked out, and the hurt and anger in them hit Danny in the center of his chest like a knife.  

“Excuse me?”

Steve’s mouth works open a few times before he finally shuts his eyes and forces out, “You really think I don’t worry about your safety?”

“Not enough to quit jumping in front of bullets you don’t,” Danny yells, pushing up out of his chair too.  He flings his arms out to represent all the wide, wide manner of things that Steve _hasn’t_ quit doing despite the fact that he claims to care about Danny’s safety.  “Flying drug runs in planes,” he starts enumerating Steve’s reckless choices on his fingers.

Steve’s face shutters as he interrupts Danny’s list.  “That’s not fair.”

Danny snorts a laugh.  “Isn’t it?”

“Danny, I love you,” Steve says stiffly, defensively, like Grace when he makes her apologize for something she’s done before she’s had time to calm down first and she’s still pissed.

Still, relief floods Danny.  After so many months, it’s so good to finally hear those words come out of Steve’s mouth again.  The anger and bitterness slowly start to leak out of him all too easily, just like that. With those four words.

“And I love you too, babe.  That’s actually a big part of it.”  Stepping forward, Danny curls his hand around Steve’s bicep, lowering his voice.  “Because besides me, take my own safety away from the whole thing, what you’re asking me to do is watch you kill yourself.  And I’m done, babe. I’m done watching you almost die and thinking this is it, this is the time he doesn't come back. Because you come back from this plane crash but only just barely and only with me missing half my liver--”

“Your liver again,” Steve says in an impatient tone.

And -- just like that -- Nope.  Danny is pissed the hell off all over again.

“Goddamn it, Steven! It’s not about our goddamn liver,” he yells, poking his index finger hard into the spot where he knows Steve’s scarline is still at its most sensitive.  “It’s you dying-- actually dying, Steven, flatlining!-- in front of me and when you finally come back around you don’t take it easy.” Danny punctuates it by poking him again.  “You are never cautious, and you don’t think,” he spits, poking a third time, “before you literally, actually leap!”

Steve glowers down at him.  “So I _am_ why you left.”

Danny sighs exasperatedly, shaking his head as he steps back.  “I didn’t say that.”

Steve rolls his eyes again, making Danny’s hairs stand up on end in annoyance.  It’s like a Pavlovian thing at this point: Steve’s eyes roll, Danny wants to murder things.

“But I am though,” Steve repeats.  He’s picking a fight and pouting at the same time.  

“No,” Danny immediately bites out, but then pauses.  “Yes.” He closes his eyes, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose.  “Partially. It’s not directly you, but yes, you weighed heavily into my decision.”  

“Okay,” Steve says, stepping forward to close the distance and speaking almost in a pleading tone.  “Okay, you’re right, I’m sorry. I’ve been reckless. I’ve always been reckless. That hasn’t changed.”

“But you know what,” Danny asks, tilting his head to the side.  “I have.”

Steve laughs, this time unsarcastically.  “No you haven’t. You haven’t changed, Danny. You’re still the same glass half empty, cranky, curmudgeonly half-pint that barged into my Dad’s garage seven years ago--”

“Half-pint,” Danny immediately snarks back, making a fist and showing it to Steve.  “You wanna say that again?”

Steve grins.  “Shorty.”

Half of him wants to.  Half of Danny wants to actually do it, rear back and punch Steve right in his smug, careless, selfish face.  The other half though, the other half is too busy trying not to laugh… and is enjoying the whiplash sensation of Steve’s slightly flirtatious affection washing over him three seconds after they were yelling at each other.

“What made you finally come around?” he asks instead, lowering his fist.  

Steve leans his shoulder against the wall, reaching up to scratch at his jawline.  “Got tired of sharing custody of Chin and Kono. All this going back and forth between me and you, instead of everyone being at the same place at the same time.”

Danny rolls his own eyes this time, but laughs as he sits back down.  “Just admit it already. You missed me.” Danny didn’t hope for things, but right now he was sure as hell hoping Steve took that bait.

Steve makes a contemplative face.  “No,” he says slowly, waving a hand in the air.  “Missing isn’t the noun I would have used.”

“Missing is a verb, you great big idiot,” Danny says, reaching over and grabbing Steve’s wrist.  “Come on, sit already, will ya?”

“Yeah, Danno,” Steve says finally as he lowers himself to sit again, soft spoken.  “I missed you.”

“Took you long enough,” Danny answers, just as soft.  His stomach flutters. “It goes both ways, I can only text you so much before I figure you’ll never text me back.”

“But you never came over,” Steve answers, looking hurt and uncertain.  It’s not an expression Steve readily shows anyone. “You didn’t come by. You didn’t barge in and yell at me to get over myself.  You didn’t tell me I was being an idiot, you didn’t…. You didn’t not let me get away with it this time.”

Danny nods.  “Yeah, I guess I felt like this time it was important you come to it on your own.”

“Come to what,” Steve asks, hands spreading.  “I do it your way or it’s the highway?”

“You’re really gonna make me spell it out for you, huh,” Danny mutters, looking down and away.  “First of all, me leaving the job is _not_ me leaving you.  It’s me leaving the job.  I made that clear. I could not have made that _clearer_.  Kono, Chin, Lou…. all of them understood that.”

“But the job’s all I got, Danny.  I am the job.” Steve falters then, clearing his throat before continuing.  “I don’t know who I am without the job.”

“I never asked you to leave the job, babe,” Danny says quietly.  “And you don’t just have the job. How long is it gonna take you to realize--”

“Yeah, Danny, I know,” Steve says, a bit louder now, a bit more desperate.  “I got the job, and I got you. And you _left_.”

Danny looks around himself.   “Am I in a new house? Did I up and move and not know it?  Or am I in the very same exact house in which you helped me put together Charlie’s bed?  Am I not in the same exact house I’ve been in for the past few years that we’ve drank countless beers in and celebrated countless Christmases in?  I didn’t leave, Steve, not you. I’m the same guy, in the same house, with the same damn phone number.”

“I was hurt,” Steve yells finally, slamming his hands flat down on the table.  “I was hurt, and pissed, and confused, and I get up every day waiting for you to show up so I can steal your car keys and we can drive together to work, and you can bitch me out for being a neanderthal dunderhead, and then you and Chin will yell at me and Kono to stop cleaning our guns.  And when we go out, Danny, when we go out to a job, you’re not there. You’re not there, behind me, _having_ me!”

“So you go out with Lou,” Danny says calmly, refusing to raise to Steve’s bait.  “You go with Kono, you go with Chin. You trust them just as much as you trust me.”

“It’s not the same.”

“Then adapt, Steve, like an adult,” Danny says.  “And then at the end of the day, when you go to Sidestreets, I’ll still go, and I’ll listen to all of it.  I’ll hear all the stories and I’ll call you a man-child, and I’ll roll my eyes with Chin.” He sits forward then and grabs Steve’s hand.  “But what I won’t do, anymore, is be there, having your back, watching you jump when you should duck, and I won’t watch your body get riddled with bullets in front of me until I can hear the blood gurgling in your lungs.  What I _won’t_ do, is that.”  Shaking his head he blinks back the tears that had sprung unbidden to his eyes and clears his throat.  “Not anymore. I _can’t_ do it.”  Meeting Steve’s eyes he wills him to understand.  “Do you get it? Can’t. Can not.”

“Danny,” Steve says, not meeting his eyes.  His voice is choked and weak, and it almost makes Danny lose it.  “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t need your _I’m sorry_ ,” Danny says, letting go of Steve’s hand to wipe quickly at his face while Steve’s still staring at the tabletop.  “I need you to get the fuck over yourself and stop making Kono show up at my place with a six pack of beers cuz last week it was Chin’s turn.  Huh? Can we just go back to being what we were?”

“Can’t you just come back to Five-O?” Steve asks, but he interrupts Danny before Danny can interject.  “I can’t take it anymore, not being able to look over at you and see you there. Bitching and being cantankerous, yeah, but there, and alive, and breathing, and fine.  I can’t check up on you and make sure you’re doing good and not being in your own head all the time and beating yourself up over nothing.”

Danny smirks a little.  “I don’t have to be in your pocket for you to do that, Steve.  It’s called a phone.” He laughs. “For Christ’s sake, we’ve spent time apart.  You visiting Mar. Me visiting Jersey. Me, just taking a day off. Now it’s just more often.  But it’s only during the day. The day is all that’s different.”

“But it doesn’t feel like that’s all that’s changed.  It doesn’t feel like that’s all that’s different.”

Danny reaches over and tilts Steve’s face up until he looks at him.  Then he swats him soundly over the top of the head. “Because you made it all or none, you moron!   _You_ did that.”

Steve reaches up to feel his head, looking equal parts pissed and amused.  “Can’t say I missed the physical abuse.” Danny makes like he’s going to swat Steve again and Steve finally laughs.  “Okay, okay, I get it. I get it, okay? I understand now.”

“Come on,” Danny says, standing up and gesturing for Steve to follow.

“Uh.”  Steve holds up his hands.  “We gonna fight now or something?”

Danny rolls his eyes.  “Yes, we’re gonna fight, because in the eighty-two days I’ve regressed back to my teenage Jersey self rather than the full ass adult man I am right now.”

Steve snorts.  “Half.”

Danny freezes on the way towards grabbing his keys.  “Excuse me?”

“Half.  Half of a man size.”  Steve grins, full wattage.  “Half-pint.”

Danny swats Steve on the chest as he walks past him towards the door, grabbing the Camaro keys as he passes by the kitchen counter, turning to face him.  “Dinner. Beer. Seasalty air, Steven. Come on.”

Steve grins and catches the keys Danny throws him.

+

They’re finished with dinner and halfway through their final beer when Danny’s finally had enough and snaps his fingers in front of Steve’s face.  “Why are you staring at me with that goofy look on your face?”

Steve’s bewildered look morphed into one of pure amusement.  “You counted.”

Danny’s brow furrowed in confusion.  “I counted. I counted what?”

“Eighty-two,” Steve says, leaning forward.  “You said it’s been eighty-two days. You counted.”

“I didn’t _count_ ,” Danny protests, though he most certainly did.  “I just happen to have a very accurate concept of time passage.”

“Mm hmm,” Steve says, narrowing his eyes and nodding slowly.  “I bet you remember what I was wearing.”

Danny nods, meeting his eyes dead on.  “I do indeed.” He points at Steve’s face.  “Aneurism face. Mixed with a little bit of How Dare You eyes and I Can’t Believe You Said That mouth.  Also, cargo pants.”

“You know, Daniel, most grown men do not have names for their friends’ facial expressions,” Steve says with a smirk.

“Friend?  You, sir, are not my friend.  I do not know what you are, but friend?  You are not.”

Steve reaches over and steals Danny’s last french fry, despite Danny attempting to smack his hand away.  “You wound me.”

“No, you wound yourself,” Danny counters, raising an eyebrow.  “That’s the problem.”

Steve’s smirk grows even more and there it is again.  That look, hidden underneath all the other stuff, under the fondness and friendship.  That thing that makes Danny’s stomach burn and flip. It’s always been there, probably since day one, but it’s been so long since Danny felt it that he’s afraid he’s lost his ability to handle it.

“C’mon, let’s go,” Steve says, finally looking away, gesturing to their waiter for the check.

Danny frowns as he watches Steve reach into his back pocket for his wallet.  “Am I ill?”

Steve gives him a confused look.  “You’re not that much of a lightweight are you, you’ve only had three beers.”

“No, you,” Danny says, reaching over and grabbing the edge of Steve’s pocket, yanking on it.  His three beers may mean he also got a little handful of Steve’s ass. “Did you really just liberate your own wallet from this pocket to pay for our meal?”

Steve winks at him and Danny’s feels heat flush down the back of his neck, again wondering where the hell his ability to operate like a grown adult in the face of Steve went.  

“I did indeed, Danno.”  Steve’s voice comes out quietly intense.  Danny realizes he’s staring at his mouth.  
  


“Impressive,” Danny says, grinning and settling back in his chair, trying to pretend he hadn’t just imagined those lips otherwise occupied.  He picks up his beer and finishes the last of it in three swallows as Steve hands his credit card over to the waiter. “I’m feeling very… _valued_ , Steven.”

“You are,” Steve says, and Danny waits for the ‘but.’  The roll of the eyes, the snort, the giveaway to the fact that Steve’s just kidding, but it doesn’t come.  Instead, when he looks at Steve, he’s never seen Steve’s face look more serious or more sincere. “You’re a valued member of my team, whether you’re on it or not, but more than that, I value you in my life.  The past…” Steve smiles then and looks away. “The past _eighty-two days_ have been the some of the worst days of my life.  And that’s including the days I spent in combat.”

Danny clears the frog in his throat.  “Steve.” He feels hot everywhere, like he will combust if Steve isn’t saying what it sounds like he’s saying.  

“No, listen,” Steve says, holding up a hand.  “I should say this. I don’t say things the way you do, I’m not good at it.  You’re good at saying the things, and I need to try. I’ve been… a jerk. I’ve been closed off and I’ve acted like a… a…”

“Dick?”

Steve laughs.  “Sure, I’ve been a dick, but that was coming out of a place of--”

“I know,” Danny says gently as they both get quiet as the waiter brings back Steve’s card and receipt.  “I get it, Steve, I do. I know you. I always got it.”

“I didn’t though,” Steve says, signing the ticket and putting his wallet back in his pocket.  “I just reacted with anger and bitterness and didn’t stop to think… The reason I’m so angry, and hurt, and bitter, is that I’m afraid of losing you.  And the bullshit is, that’s exactly what I did, by being angry, and hurt, and bitter.”

“You didn’t lose me.”

Steve meets his eyes.  “Not for lack of trying.”

“Here’s the important part,” Danny says, reaching over and grabbing the back of Steve’s hand, holding tight to it so Steve doesn’t pull it away.  Steve doesn’t even try to though, is the thing. “You’re not going to, unless you’re the one to pull away.”

Steve looks terrified for a second, an expression that has probably never graced his nonsensically attractive face.  Danny almost blurts out _Seriously? Of all things, that’s what freaks you out?_  But instead he stands up and grabs Steve’s shoulder, jostling it.  “Come on. Let’s go for a walk.”

The silence between them is deafening as they walk along the beach, the water washing gently up against the shore and the breeze ruffling Danny’s hair.  It’s peaceful and quiet and it’s the happiest Danny’s been since the day he’d made the decision to finally quit Five-O.

Just when they reach the point where Danny thinks it's about time to turn back, he feels Steve stop next to him, his hand coming up to wrap around Danny’s wrist.  Before he can even turn his head to ask why Steve stopped, he feels the heat of Steve’s body closing in on him as his fingers grab Danny’s chin and turn his face towards him.  

Danny barely has a chance to even grasp the fact that Steve’s gotten so close so fast before Steve’s mouth is on him, a hot searing kiss that’s already ten kinds of dirty in 0.3 seconds.  

“Steve,” he says into Steve’s mouth, confusion and just the slightest buzz of alcohol and Steve’s tongue against his own, says “what are you” as Steve’s hand threads into his hair.  He says “Steve, what are you,” and then Steve pulls back and locks eyes with him and the hunger and need make whatever else is in his head for him to say fade out and die on lips that are aching for Steve to kiss them again.

“Danny,” Steve says and his eyes fall to look at Danny’s lips and Danny’s body feels like it’s on fire so he grabs Steve behind the ears and pulls him forward, closing his eyes and kissing him with everything in him because fuck it, he wants this, Steve wants this, and they fucking deserve to get what they want.  

Danny pulls Steve down with him into the sand as he kneels and then Steve is actually on top of him as he straddles Danny’s hips, his knees bracketing Danny’s thighs as he leans down into him and deepens the kiss.  Danny groans and loses himself in it as Steve’s hands slide down to his chest, fingers working on the buttons of Danny’s shirt

“I fucking hate sand, Steven, you couldn’t pick a better place for this,” Danny grumbles as he feels sand grinding against his scalp.

“Danny,” Steve breathes against him, “God, just shut the fuck up.”

“ _You_ shut up,” Danny whispers back, shifting his hips up against Steve, his mind going blank when he feels Steve’s answering hard on.  “Oh God, Steve, you’re insane--”

He cuts off as Steve’s hand grazes over his crotch, and suddenly the sand is the last thing on Danny’s mind, because this is happening, it’s actually happening, and he’d just about given up on this dream.  He fumbles with Steve’s zipper, unbuttoning it and reaching in to grab onto his dick as Steve’s fingers wrap around Danny’s.

“Why’d you let it go so damn long, Danny,” Steve moans against Danny’s mouth as he begins to slowly pump his hand up and down.  Slow, exquisite, painfully perfect pressure. “Why didn’t you kick my ass?”

“You wanna argue or you wanna get off,” Danny grumbles back, twisting his wrist viciously, smirking as Steve shudders against him.  “And me, you’re the one who refused to answer my fucking texts.”

“You didn’t come to my house and burst in without knocking and call me an idiot,” Steve counters before bending his head and sucking a biting kiss into the side of Danny’s neck.

Danny closes his eyes as he shivers, digging his free hand’s nails into Steve’s side.  “And you didn’t come to my office and annoy the fuck out of me until I did.”

Steve’s breath was hot against his skin and it was coming out in puffs and pants, and the way it hitched in the back of his throat made the hair stand up on the back of Danny’s neck.  He started pumping his fist harder, faster, until those hitches came closer and closer together.

“Come on babe, come for me,” he whispers and then seals his lips against Steve’s in a searing kiss that he can feel traverse all the way down his spine.  He moans into the kiss as he feels his own orgasm building.

The orgasm crests quickly and shakes him from head to toe and he hears Steve follow closely behind him, shaking and jerking against Danny as he tightens his grip on his neck.  

“Danny, Danny, Danny,” Steve finally whispers when it’s over.  Danny grins. “Why didn’t we start doing that sooner?”

Danny lets out a startled chuckle.  “Because you’re a moron?”

Steve shrugs and then stands, tucking himself back into his jeans before zipping up and reaching down to help Danny up.  “Come on. There’s a lot of catching up we need to do.”

Danny zipped himself up and nodded.  Hell yeah there was.

But first he was taking a shower, because there was sand in his ass and no.   _Just no._

 

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr here under [@lovethesnark](http://lovethesnark.tumblr.com). 
> 
> Fanfiction Website  
> MOST of my fic is not on AO3, though all of my H5O and beyond is as AO3 didn't exist yet and it was too much to archive. It can be found on my website at [LoveTheSnark.com](http://www.lovethesnark.com).


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